


Symphony

by seekingjets



Series: Bad Business [10]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Albeist Language, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Disabled Character, M/M, Minor in danger, Non-Explicit Sex, Nonbinary Character - Pregnancy, Not Beta Read, Other, cybertron - earth au, mentions of death and torture, mentions of human experimentation, mild body horror, we just die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingjets/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: While integral to Megatron's success, Soundwave has their own story to tell.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (mentioned), Shockwave/Soundwave
Series: Bad Business [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/991020
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Soundwave is partially deaf, I did my best to represent ways people of the community communicate comfortably, but please know I am only so familiar and honestly tried my best to do so respectfully 
> 
> [ ] Represent moments of sign language.
> 
> 2\. "..." Represents time passage, and I am so sorry for the pace on this one
> 
> 3\. You thought Bad Business was just a love story huh?
> 
> 4\. Pt2 will be out soon, just finishing up some scenes and thought it'd be best to split them up. 
> 
> 5\. Enjoy

**ONE**

Two children are crammed together on a stoop of cement and city dust. Their shapes framed by the large gray steps, cracked and worn over years the establishment has been alive. Fractures in the concrete give way to yellow weeds and black ants who dart and dive out of sight, ignored by the little shapes pressed from ankle to knee sitting side by side.

“So you’re not gonna hear anymore?” Blaster questions, his fingernails dirty from digging up worms in the park earlier this morning when the Matron took them for a short trip. It was a sunny day and with school let out for the summer months their caretakers had to get creative with keeping the kids distracted or else they’d just get bored and rowdy. 

“I don’t know.” Soundwave answers with voice quiet and nearly lost amongst the cars ahead of them. Engines both junky and loud soaring down the city street, a few neighbors lingering on sidewalks yelling at one another. Kids out to play in the summer afternoon, chasing yapping dogs or getting under their parent’s skin until threats spill from adult mouths like rain. 

Soundwave could still hear it all. 

The newspaper stand arguing with a patron about a price increase on a sports magazine, the woman down the way screaming at her boyfriend for looking at another woman. Even the music still thrumming from plastic headphones around Blaster’s neck, the cassette player they found chipped and worn in the Matron’s donation box giving a low whine with age. They could still pinpoint the exact moment the song dipped into the chorus, the women of the band united in harmony with the male lead to carry the song of brass and drums…

But there was a whistle Soundwave couldn’t shake from their ear.

Something that’d been growing in the background for months now, steady like a siren building in volume on the horizon. Chasing them down even in their sleep and causing headaches when it would abruptly SCREAM and send them clutching their temple. 

The doctors today said big words while they performed their tests, giving Soundwave little pause to ask questions or even stop crying when something scared them.The social worker yelled at them when they couldn’t sit still for the exam and it wasn’t the first time they were threatened with relocation if they didn’t obey the confusing demands of adults.

“I think they said, it’s hard to tell how bad it’ll be.” Soundwave explains best they can before tucking their chin atop knees covered by the hand me down skirt. It was their favorite and Matron usually only let them wear it to Sunday Mass but today was special they supposed. The blue and white trim fabric made them feel better about the dizzying feeling of not understanding what was happening. 

“It'll be ok!” Blaster puts an arm around their shoulders, pulling them close to his chest. He smells like sweat and grass and it’s unpleasant but Soundwave doesn’t complain. The comfort is more than they’ve gotten from anyone in the past day and they won’t cry because that only makes adults angry - it makes them feel like you’re mocking them and Soundwave knows when eyes get mean they’ll be the one to get in trouble.

So Soundwave doesn’t cry as they bury their face into Blaster’s tshirt and trying to order the whistle away. Begging it to stop so they didn’t have another thing wrong with them.

“They got like, hand language for people who can’t hear or speak right?” Blaster says, suddenly animated. “We can learn that - or like - write messages to each other instead! We can make a code!” He sounded thrilled at the idea. “I read in a book that during war people have sound codes so the enemy can’t understand what they’re doin’. How bout it ‘Waves? You n’me, we can make our own language and no one but us will know what we’re talking ‘bout.” 

Soundwave wipes their nose, arguing with their body that shaking like this isn’t good. It’s not going to make things easier so _stop_. 

“Just us?” They ask, bent against Blaster’s chest so the world can’t see them struggle not to cry, the cassette player clicking painfully to play the next song on the film. 

“Just us.” Blaster promises, hooking their pinkies together and not letting go. “We can go to the library tomorrow - Matron says I’m old enough to go by myself if I avoid where the cops like to chill. We can even use the computer they have!” 

Soundwave’s mouth twitches, hesitant to smile as the weight of fear still holds their lungs in a terrible grip. But the idea was nice, at least it was a distraction from the whistle they couldn’t turn off no matter how hard they prayed at night. The warmth of Blaster’s hand tangled against theirs, the sound of his voice. Soundwave thinks this might be ok - if it’s just Blaster and them - they would be fine. 

“It’s called sign language dummy.” They correct and actually manage to laugh at Blaster’s cry of embarrassment. His declaration that _he knew that he knew that!_

“Waves,” Blaster knocks his chin into their brow similar to Brawn’s old mutt when the dog gets out and tries to lay on the kids at the park. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you ok?” There’s a hurt in his voice that Soundwave knows is about Jazz. That was a hard day for the home - for him to say goodbye while smiling. Siblings don’t get adopted, Blaster was told and repeated again and again until he stopped crying when the new family came to pick up his kid brother. 

“Just us against the world.” 

* * *

**TWO**

Blood sprays across the faces of the crowd.

The mess only makes their mindless screaming more feral, more violent. They rise from their seats, toppling folding chairs or their neighbor’s drinks, crying for more blood - screaming for brutality. 

The warehouse basement is dark save for mismatched spotlights and poorly hung neon strips across the octagonal chamber. Bodies are crushed together, it smells like sweat and pungent alcohol. Like men’s cheap shoe polish and women’s expensive perfume as the sea of blood-thirsty bodies slam fists into the cage wire and claw for meat like scavengers at a corpse.

Soundwave is running bets. They are thin enough that slipping between the frenzied bodies is easy, catching the flash of green luminescent sticks across the horde and quick to meet with a client wanting to change or add to the current run. The noise is deafening but that’s fine, Soundwave can only hear part of it anyways - one ear worse than the other - reading lips is efficient and the betting pool is better organized with notes scrawled across their little black book that only Soudnwave can translate. Handing tickets over to liquor stained hands with a marker scrawl to confirm their wager - no hearing needed for either of them. 

It’s easier to wear headphones. Small buds tucked deep within their ears that play music they can almost still understand. Follow along like hearing underwater and it makes the screeching noise forever embedded in their skull almost part of the music. Blending with the rapline and chittering synthetics warping the sound. Their cd player is sacred and Soundwave has it taped to their chest beneath the halter top so none of the hands that freely roam their body when they pass have a chance at stealing it. 

Their boss doesn’t ask how old his employees are, and why should he care? The only rule is don’t fuck a customer during the fight and Soundwave made sure to move quickly between the crowds - careful not to linger too long at anyone’s side - so they didn’t get the wrong idea.

It was a way of making money, but they weren’t that desperate. Yet.

Which made it difficult on nights like these. The championship rounds where Kaon opened her belly to fighters from all across the city-states. Giant men mangled in scars and prison tattoos. Men in suits with pretty figures hanging off their arms, women with scars on their brows and combat boots heavy with knives. Soundwave liked the diversity of the fights - they liked the _fighters_ mostly. There was poetry to them, like the books they read as a kid in the home, they were like rowdy outlaws gathered to survive a cruel world.

What they didn’t like was the audience. The slimy men and women pouring from the street who saw themselves entitled to the bloodshed. Who spent more money than they truly held in wagers and often left without fingers or their dates traded as collateral. 

Ratbat said the fighters and his employees were all equally whores - but Soundwave didn’t like the comparison. 

Tonight was heavy with bloody match after bloody match - the ring stained and smeared between fights as men tried to mop and dry the floor as quickly as they could. Leaving it rust colored and grotesque by the time the next gladiators came to meet. It was pushing one in the morning, the last fights usually ending around three. Soundwave had a bruise on their thigh from being hit with a chair and beer splashed across their boots from a drunken squabble they failed to dash around before security could get in between. They were exhausted but not in pain, yet, and so numb to the noise and violence that they didn’t flinch when a hand came to squeeze their throat and tug their body back against a hard chest.

Ratbat knows to speak where Soundwave can see his mouth, so he twists and manipulates their body until he’s in sight, his wet grin stained in gin and reeking of sweat. 

Hard to believe that in the morning Soudnwave might catch this man on the news, standing alongside the Prime in regal pose and shaking hands with those untouchable figures on the hill of Iacon. (half of which have children in this city, wretched Kaon where good men leave their mistakes to rot).

“My little songbird, look LOOK, isn’t it magnificent?” He’s drunk and waving loose towards the vicious crowd as the latest fight tumbles on.  
"We’re taking in so much, your new system is amazing. I'm just so proud of you!” 

Soundwave nods, pulling back from the hand on their throat and knowing they’ll have to wait out this burst of affection before Ratbat will let them go. 

They know they’re Ratbat’s favorite employee because Soundwave has had to suffer many nights dragging their drunken boss to his office and dropping him in the cot left there. Having to learn his production system and rebuild the firewalls keeping the cops from finding their establishment. Soundwave has learned a great deal from the technerds Ratbat paid over the years to build his digital empire - and everything learned is just another way Soundwave is indispensable. 

There are too many teenagers like them washing up in the riverside - too many vanishing without a trace. 

“He’s so popular already, he’s making me so much money - look at him!” Ratbat grabs Soundwave’s chin in a bruise grip, turning their face towards the fight as they try to command their body not to fight the touch. “Look at this wild bastard, he’s magnificent!” 

Soundwave has seen this fighter before.

A body, broad and fast, twists and ducks - grabbing his opponent and the crowd _moans_ at the sound of bone breaking. 

A name begins to rise from the audience, slow build and suddenly throat shattering as this fighter continues to dance. Fists soaked red in another’s blood, scarred and shirtless as he drives back his enemy, tearing past defenses like they are nothing. Like this man twice his size is a mere shred of paper in his way. 

_Megatron Megatron_

Breaks his opponent before Soundwave can even gather what’s happening. There’s red smeared across the floor and the audience is splattered in a fighter’s life - there is bone sticking from the defeated body and scrambling workers trying to get to the loser before Megatron is looking up from his stage.

Scanning the crowd with eyes lit red with the neon above - searching for something.

“He’s a beautiful monster isn’t he?” Ratbat swoons before half shoving Soundwave off him. Barking orders to collect bets - take one or two bouncers with them. “These fucking idiots, these Crystal City bitches with their petty brawlers had no chance. I just wish I could get this Tarnish whoreson not to win so fast! He’s got showmanship but no class, a tragedy.” He’s laughing, drunk off himself and the money Soundwave has already calculated in their mind. 

Ratbat made a small fortune today which means the fights will get larger and there will be more desperate nameless employees dragged into the fold. For cash or drugs or a single meal in their belly - this endless cycle Soundwave has done their best to navigate. 

Stay indispensable, they remind themself. Don’t be something these men and women can throw away.

_Megatron Megatron Megatron_ the crowd continues to cheer as bodies try to tear through the fighting ring to get to him. To smother him in accolades and adoration. The pleading voices of fans to follow him back to the fighter’s chambers is astounding and Soundwave can’t help but stare at Megatron’s back as he exits without a single glance to this hungry crowd.

He doesn’t look happy.

But what does Soundwave know about how others’ feel?

...

“He sent his little bitch?!” 

The heel cracks over Soundwave’s ribs after they’ve been thrown. Hitting the alleyway floor with a blossom of pain across one wrist, lungs screaming for air as the kicks continue to fall. 

“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill that slimy fucker!” 

Soundwave practices speaking, trying to remember how to enunciate properly as their hearing grows worse every year. There is no tolerance or patience in this life for people who are seen as _broken_ and none of that work matters now as they can’t get a single word out. Their body thrashed and beaten and scruffed, thrown into the stacks of debris until something _tears_. 

They won’t cry.

They will not cry.

But they do try to scream only to have a fist close around their throat.

“I’ll send your body to Ratbat - he should know better than to send a little street rat to---” 

Half the words are lost on Soundwave. One ear worse than the other - neither able to focus while their insides are on fire and something is broken. Head dizzy and a want to puke and scream races with acidic urgency up their gasping chest. 

They might die here.

Worthless.

Trash.

They refuse to think about Blaster.

Suddenly they can breathe as the fists are torn off their throat. A shape fierce and large looming over their attacker. A blood chilling _scream_ that even their ears cannot distort pours through the alleyway. 

There is blood and bone and a body crumbling with a wet gurgle. There’s pleas for mercy answered by a deep voice saying _“No”_ before something snaps and there is silence…

Soundwave rolls to their side to begin coughing, violent and pained with broken sounds deep in their throat. The taste of copper and bile and shaking so hard Soundwave thinks they’re still dying - or maybe this is death? Maybe they thought they were free too soon?

“Don’t curl up like that,” Large hands, rough and warm, rest on Soundwave’s shoulders and they flinch. Afraid of the pain which always follows when someone touches them - gagging around words that won’t come out of the bruised throat and they can’t tell if it’s vomit or blood dripping from their lips. 

“You’re ok, calm down - you’re safe.” The voice tries again, not letting Soundwave refuse the weight of hands carefully unfurling their body. Holding like a bandage to their side and muttering something that’s lost on the bad ear and the ringing in their skull. 

“Please don’t,” They plead against a threat unrealized and there’s a palm smoothing hair out of their swollen face. Turning their gaze back so they can see what it is which saved them.

“You’re ok now.” 

_Megatron Megatron Megatron_ the crowd had cheered.

Megatron has thick brows that manage to V between his eyes. Black as his hair - eyes like coal in the dark backstreet. No light to witness the violence - or whatever this is as Megatron doesn’t ask first before lifting Soundwave’s body up from the trash pile. Hushing with a voice Soundwave feels against their body when they make a noise of pain. Injuries jostled by the movement.

He’s talking but Soundwave catches only a few words, can’t see his mouth around his chin from the angle and they think they plead again to not be harmed. 

There’s something in the way Megatron’s body absorbs their shivering that makes them want to believe no more pain will follow.

But that’s never the case in Kaon.

...

“Like this?” 

“You shouldn’t be holding something.” Soundwave reaches over, pulling the cigarette from Megatron’s hand as those great paws try to reform. Fingertips touching thumbs, motioning to tap towards one another between them.

“So this is "more"?” 

[Yes] Soundwave signs back, smothering the cigarette on the rooftop asphalt and making their boss frown.

“I was still using that.” Huffs, but makes no further sign of annoyance before moving into the motion for [Thank you] followed by fumbling the attempt to call them a [brat].

“Hook says you have a concussion.” They bring it up because Megatron never likes to talk about injuries even with half his face blackened from the previous night and a shoulder that had to be reset twice. But it was a special night, the finale of Megatron’s days as _only_ a fighter. “You shouldn’t go today.” 

Kaon in the early morning is almost peaceful. The cops haven’t started looking through the crimes from the night and people like Soundwave can pretend this is the way the world should be. Quiet mornings sitting atop an old bar roof, watching the sunrise over twisted factories spewing thick clouds of pollution into the air. The cabs begin to dart across the city streets below - citizens unlocking their doors and feeling safer in the daylight than they ever will at night. 

“Orion will be here soon and I need the credentials to be taken seriously.” Megatron answers, moving too slowly to grab the cigarette pack from the table between them before Soundwave tucks it away and out of reach. Returning to their laptop as they reroute feeds from the fight’s through the proper channels. If traced it will look like the upload came from Messatine or some field in the middle of nowhere Vos, they’re getting very good at running circles around the task force trying to find them. 

Megatron says something too low that Soundwave can’t make it out, leaning in their chair and frowning when their boss drops his denim jacket over their body. It wasn’t cold yet, winter still far off, but for the past few years Megatron took every opportunity to treat Soundwave like any little thing could hurt them. Even a fucking breeze.

[Favor?] He signs and Soundwave nods, listening. “Don’t get mad.” 

Soundwave tilts their head, confused, but Megatron points to the jacket pocket - to a lump Soundwave had assumed was Megatron's brick-shaped flip phone held together with tape and a prayer.

They reach in, pulling out the small box. It’s glossy and flat and when they look back at Megatron he looks positively delighted with himself. Soundwave is just confused.

“You’ll have to figure out how it works.” He says, scrubbing his jaw where the beard is beginning to grow in. He will be fighting different battles from now on and he needs to hide the scars to look presentable for this new world. “But Swindle says it’s all ready for you.” 

Soundwave frowns, still unsure, until they feel something on the back. Turning it over - a lens?

It sinks in.

“Phone?” They ask, trying to remember everything they’ve seen about this model.

“Yes the new one - you can touch the screen or whatever shit phones these days are supposed to do. But use it, or take it apart and build twenty more. You know what you’re good at.” 

Soundwave is shaking.

“Happy birthday kid.”

It’s not their birthday.

They don’t know when their birthday is but ever since Megatron told them to stay at his side - swearing he’d take care of them - he’s always picked a random day. Claiming it was their birthday and giving a gift. 

They’re not crying but they want to.

“People like you and me, the ones the world tried to throw away? We know more than those in power will ever hope to understand.” Megatron rises, blocking out the sun where he stands before Soundwave and yet Soundwave still finds they have to wince to not be blinded by adoration. “Trust me - we’re going to do great things Soundwave. Things that will make them regret _ever_ looking down on the people of Kaon...of Tarn…” 

[Always.] They answer without hesitation, without a single doubt or thought.

“It’s going to be magnificent Soundwave, once we’re done nothing can stop us…” 

[Megatron. Superior.]

“Superior?” Megatron’s pleased smile is all the world could offer, and Soundwave would be satisfied. “I don’t hate the sound of that.” 

* * *

**THREE**

It’s an unfortunate outcome that Soundwave despises Shockwave.

Both haughty and arrogant, not an ounce of humility in his wretched body.

When they first met Soundwave was stunned at the self-importance. Watching Megatron, charming and eloquent, have to actually _work_ to try and give this bastard everything he wants and make it seem like Shockwave was doing them a favor.

It was disgusting.

They really could just stab Shockwave and find a new scientist, they were a dime a dozen in their opinion. 

Megatron had done his best to reassure Soundwave that they _needed_ Shockwave. That the things the madman had been able to uncover - what he was blacklisted for - would only help solidify their foundation. Allowing them to branch from the limits of city-based construction and communications to further their expertise into multiple fields.

Soundwave knew Megatron was eyeing medical avenues - fascinated by the sciences in which Shockwave was once considered a top mind. Pharmaceuticals and medical advances were a far off dream but a dream nonetheless. There was nothing Megatron didn’t want Decepticon to have part in and each day, every new subordinate gathered, the more his expectations grew.

And Soundwave would be there, organizing the lot as they’ve done for years when Megatron started Decepticon and looked to the sky with hunger. Ready to be the one to draw an umbrella in case that promising sky ever parted with rain.

“He’s really quite foolish.” Shockwave’s voice is sneering and arrogant like the rest of him. Tall, broad shoulders and a tapered waist which can hardly be seen from the three piece suit and lap coat he always wears. 

A garish purple tie, Soundwave wants to strangle him with it the more they suffer his presence.

“Negative.” Soundwave knows Shockwave spoke out of sight on purpose, but they caught the motion of Shockwave’s mouth in the observation glass between them and the active lap. (The best hearing aids Megatron's money could buy filling in the rest). They watch the shapes beyond the glass like a hawk as Soundwave tries to balance their attention on the man beyond the window and the asshole approaching to their right.

“Let me guess, _Megatron Superior?_ ” Shockwave sounds bored, disinterested. Even though Megatron in the past year has given Shockwave everything and anything he’s asked for...he still dares to mock the unearned generosity. (Have faith, Megatron says, assuring Soundwave that Shockwave has a purpose.) “He really shouldn’t abuse his body so readily.” 

Soundwave hates that they agree on something.

Their arms crossed before their chest, watching through the lab window as Megatron is held to the chair with thick leather straps. The IV bag is half empty as it’s contents swells Megatron’s veins in a bruising purple color. From here Soundwave can see the sweat like silver bullets across his brow, the strain of his neck as the solution is agonizing to process. 

Megatron struggles against the restraints only once and Shockwave checks the monitors on this side of the glass, pale face bland.

“He can handle it.” 

“Can he? Your lot are already half broken by the time they get to me, and there’s a limit to what even I can do.” Shockwave pauses, eyes so pale they are almost yellow beneath the glaring lights overhead. “You really should start to separate your defects before they begin to spoil the rest. Grunts are grunts, and invalids are only as good as we can coddle their weaknesses. Even you should consider getting your ears fixed. I don’t have time to learn another language and to be asked to accommodate your-” 

Soundwave backhands Shockwave across the face.

It feels _so good_ to hit him - to feel the sharp cheekbone under their hand and watch that sneering face snap to the side. Wishing the scientist weren’t so frightfully tall that they could have had more balance in the strike. 

Soundwave was trained by Megatron afterall, they could break that jaw if they had the right swing...but they weren’t aiming to break bone. No. Their goal was accomplished in the swing the second Shockwave’s well-hidden false eye was half knocked from the socket. The intricate technology bursting with a discolored liquid which streamed down Shockwave’s cheek - the scientist twisting his face in pain as such a thing had to be deeply wired to function. 

“Don’t put your insecurities on me.” They speak, clear and precise because they have learned to - because they will never be seen as weak or something to _accommodate_ because of an imagined weakness in the perception of one so ashamed they spit venom. “Your job is to obey and in return Megatron tolerates your tantrums...but don’t think for a moment you’re not just as expendable as any of those _invalids_ you disdain.” 

Soundwave pulls a handkerchief from their suit pocket - they keep many on their person in case Megatron’s allergies spring up or if he beats someone’s face in and his hands get dirty. 

They toss it in Shockwave’s direction, the scientist not moving for it. Merely covering the mangled eye as blood has begun to drip from between the gloved fingers. 

“Clean yourself up and make sure Megatron is well rested. We have a drive to Iacon in the morning, the Senate council is holding an open floor discussion on energy adaption and we have a presentation on Energon to make.” They sidestep the man, barely reaching his chin in height but feeling like they towered over him, which is how it should be.

Soundwave kept Decepticon in line so Megatron didn’t have to think twice about shutting his eyes. Megatron deserved to know all things were handled. Megatron shouldn’t have to worry at all. 

Outside the labs a cherub is pushing his face to the small window of the procedure room door. He’s standing on a chair pulled from Primus knows where and Soundwave loses the high of superiority of insulting Shockwave the moment bright blue eyes and a golden halo of hair turns towards them.

“Overlord, how did you get down here, I thought you were in school?” They ask, approaching the young boy and resting a hand on their head. Fixing the tangled curls which fall down over his ears. 

“Is dad ok?” He presses, ignoring Soundwave’s question to watch Megatron through the window. “This looks like it hurts.” 

“It is not comfortable. But Megatron will be fine.” 

“This is how he stopped being sick right?” Overlord’s voice tightens with the memory. “Dad’s stronger now…am I going to get sick too?” 

“He has always been strong, but you shouldn’t worry about these things.” Soundwave waits for the boy to step down from the chair. Nuding it aside with a metallic scrape. “Would you like to start on your lessons?” 

[Sure] Overlord signs, giving a cocky smile at how quickly he’s picked up the actions. Quite smart despite what the school says. [Dad - proud?]

[He will be very happy.]

[Good.] Overlord takes Soundwave’s hand, smile never fading, and not for the first time Soundwave feels a tug of longing for something they can’t quite place.

* * *

**FOUR**

Of all the things Megatron asks Soundwave to do, this is the most unpleasant.

“Tell him to stop this.” 

Orion Pax has stayed handsome. With kind eyes and a well structured face, it’s no wonder he’s the Senate’s _darling_. The posterboy to all their commercials promoting their recent victories against crime, against corruption, all of which are lies and Orion Pax knows this. Yet he still serves like a cowering dog, slamming his body useless against a cemented door. His fate will be disappointing, Soundwave recalls Megatron was once so fond of this man.

“Soundwave, please.” Orion Pax looks less worried at being seen, speaking to the personal assistant of Kaon’s fastest growing businessman - a sealed envelope in hand, and more upset that the world will somehow know _why_. “We want nothing to do with him.” 

“I have my orders.” 

“For someone who preaches about the sanctity of free will, he really doesn’t let you disobey him.” There’s anger in Pax’s voice, anger that simmers and grows with each interaction. Soundwave never witnessed _what_ Orion Pax and Megatron were to one another, but always had assumptions. Without proof - without Megatron informing them - there was no reason to consider it further however. Soundwave was there as they are every month, trying to put this envelope and many more like it into Orion’s hands.

“This is a courtesy.” Soundwave explains. “We both know I can simply deposit the money into your account.” 

“Don’t.” Orion shakes his head, weary with the past. “Do you understand the position he’s put me in for his own pride?” 

“Megatron is only doing what is right.” Soundwave counters and is surprised at the look Pax wears. Like he’s just heard the funniest thing in the world - and that it’s also so painful he may cry.

“If he was doing what was _right_ , neither of us would be here.” He says, that anger peeking through. A reminder that Orion Pax used to be a man who would sit at their table, argue philosophy and the law until both Megatron and he were red in the face.

A man who looked Soundwave in the eye when he told Megatron to never seek him out and begged Soundwave to not let Megatron spiral too far with his dreams.

“I warned you not to let him get too caught up in his ambitions.” Orion takes the envelope and promptly rips it in half. “I told you he’d become unstoppable and no one would be able to stand against him.” 

“That is the point.” Soundwave turns their head, not certain why Orion thinks such would be a bad thing.

But once more the kind Orion Pax looks in agony over their conversation and Soundwave feels they are missing something.

“People like him only stop when they’re dead.” He says with mournful intent. “And they usually die young.” 

The torn check is returned to Soundwave’s hands, Orion giving them a comforting squeeze before returning towards the path to the government building. His entourage waiting patiently and nervous, their lack of subtlety astounding to witness.

Good men are terrible at being guilty, they think. Putting the papers away and straightening their coat with a sigh. Megatron would not be happy and they would have to call Deathsaurus into conference to remind their employer why he should not pick a fight with the Senate’s darling over bribery money. 

It was going to be a long day…

A voice stops Soundwave’s blood cold, the words lost as they weren’t focused on listening - moving to seek the noise’s source.

“Waves?” The mouth moves again, a face they’ve not seen for years - and changed with age. 

Soundwave almost drops their satchel to the city sidewalk.

“Blaster.” 

* * *

**FIVE**

The reporters call Megatron’s name like many fish frenzied at a dock. It reminds Soundwave of the fighting ring, fans adoring and bloodthirsty trying to gain Megatron’s attention.

They ask about the merger, his control over both Gygax and Helix energy establishments. They want to know more about his new method of Energorn refinement and if he considers Decepticon a monopoly on such things. They laugh at his jokes and swoon at his charm and he’ll make a cutting image on the newspaper for tomorrow morning.

Fine gray wool coat, his best red tie, his handsome and imposing figure with elegant words and confident answers.

Soundwave makes notes from the side, watching the crowd just as closely as Megatron through a feed they snuck into. Their tablet darting between news cycle's cameras.

A reporter is chosen for the next question.

“Sundrift, from the Crystal Bulletin. Do you have any response for the comments made last week about you by Arcus Azure, the COO of Seeker Air Command.”

Megatron tilts his head, he looks as lovable as a handsome dog of good stock.

“Can you remind me what she said?” 

“With….respect sir...I’d rather not repeat it.” The reporter stumbles, not expecting the response. The crowd covering their mouths to laugh at the misstep while Megatron looks only delighted.

“It’s fine, and to be honest I don’t take it personally. Arcus Azure is a brilliant woman whom I respect as a fellow business minded individual. I only have good things to say about her, and hope her family is doing well. I heard her son has won some prestigious academic award. The youngest ever, they must be very proud.” 

He moves on, good. Soundwave thinks that’s best, calling on another to move the press conference along. He’s swift and sophisticated and all the things Soundwave knows he’s trained so hard to be.

“Sidecast from Polyhex Daily - as you now own the entire mining facilities of Messatine - are you at all concerned about people making comparisons between your rapid acquisitions near the deadlands and the siege of Unicron?” 

Soundwave blinks, a name they weren’t expecting.

Megatron however only raises his brows to the graying hairline, looking almost amused.

“I’m not sure why I would?” He chuckles, warm and low and many people fluster at the sound echoing from the mic. “Unicron’s attempt to steal a city was both the work of a madman and a drug-aided psychotic break. Unless you’re accusing me of trying to _buy_ the remnants of Tarn by bringing innovation to the surrounding areas which were economically devastated after the rebellion? Should we just let those cities suffer because of the treachery of one?” 

Most are afraid to say the citystate's name, but not Megatron. He hides his accent well and they’ve faked his history so none could possibly know any better if they looked. 

“I think you’re confusing my genuine desire to establish in areas others are too cowardly to set roots. They’re more concerned with immediate revenue - I’ve always been transparent with my intention to cultivate territories the world left behind.” 

He smiles, it’s dazzling, they love it.

The world slowly falls into his palm.

“Amusing, that the masses have rewritten history.” Shockwave appears at Soundwave’s side. “No one flinches calling Unicron _he_ because they don’t like to remember a woman did such terrible things.” Shockwave is there because Shockwave is annoying and Soundwave can’t get rid of him. Lingering in the background while Megatron’s security team provides decent cover from any cameras. 

Soundwave pretends not to have heard him, watching the conference from their tablet and not looking his way.

Shockwave unfortunately is stubborn and annoying and moves to pull up a chair beneath the awning where they’re secured. The conference is an event after all, multiple tables set up with information and food provided by Decepticon. There will be schmoozing after and investors will get to feel important with reporters around, fresh and glowing from Megatron’s charisma. 

“You should sit.” 

“No.” 

Shockwave makes a face that Soundwave has learned to love over their time working together. A face of indignant outrage, like a child who ate a lemon after being told not to.

[The Baby.] Shockwave signs. [Sit.]

It’s an emotional response, their hand moving to the beginning of a swollen curve to their body. The new weight which feels foreign and somehow altogether natural. 

The world is too bright, everything smells horrible, they’re hungry _all the fucking time_...but Soundwave is so happy anytime their hand meets the sign of life. 

[I am a doctor.] Shockwave continues, frowning before pushing the chair closer. 

“You are not a doctor of this avenue.”

“I read some books.” 

They sit and can’t imagine why Shockwave is pretending to care, but at least he doesn’t look smug about winning or else Soundwave would stand right back up to prove a point. 

They didn’t need help with this.

They didn’t need _anyone._

[Study more, your pace is terrible]

“It’s not a very natural fit, I’ll confess.” Shockwave admits, giving up on signing for now as Soundwave meets his gaze. “I’d like to set aside time for us to discuss something.” 

“I’m free now.” 

Shockwave glares.

“I would prefer an appointment.” 

[No.] Soundwave sets down the tablet, losing sight of Megatron but that’s fine. He knows what he’s doing, there’s no reason for concern.

“This really would be better in privacy.” He looks to the security team who haven’t once turned from their focus - more like statues than a threat. But Soundwave can also appreciate privacy...and find amusement in disrupting Shockwave’s desire for it.

[Now or never.]

“You really are an unyielding brat.” He’s upset, good. Soundwave loves when he’s upset, like a little game they play when Megatron isn’t around to get between them. He tells Soundwave to be nice to Shockwave, and has held Shockwave by the throat if his tone falls impolite around Soundwave in his hearing range...

[Now. Or. Never.] They answer pointedly and are genuinely surprised when Shockwave - lord of fuss - actually kneels at the chair’s side, picking the ear which does better when hearing aids are in use. Pale eyes darting to ensure none are close enough to hear which is ironic in a way all things considered. His pristine slacks will get dirty and only for that Soundwave thinks _ah, this might have been important_.

This close, Soundwave can’t help but notice at some point Shockwave's hair has gone from blond to white. Far too young for that to be a natural progression but yet there was no color left in the neatly combed strands.

A pity Shockwave was handsome, it was a waste.

“Know this is not to upset you, but of actual concern. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother prying into your personal business, I don’t really care, you see.” 

Great start, Soundwave rolls their eyes. 

“But knowing what you do about Megatron’s...treatments. It would be best to inform me sooner rather than later the origin of your condition.” 

They’ve never heard Shockwave try to sound polite before.

It was both hysterical and entirely horrifying.

“That is none of your business.”

“It is, actually.” Shockwave’s expression is harder than they have ever seen it, imploring with a strange urgency never seen in the years between them. “I have no idea what it would do to you, you haven’t been tested for the compound, and adding a fetus into the matter…” 

Soundwave takes a breath, wanting to laugh and also shove Shockwave down. Maybe even throw the chair at him, it would make for great stress relief. 

“Be careful, you sound almost like you’re worried about me.” 

“I **_am_ **.” 

“I am not one of your experiments.” 

“Primus you are an illogical creature.” He hisses, the sensation can be felt where he’s crowded closer to their side - whispering is bad for Soundwave’s process of lip reading, but Shockwave does well keeping his mouth strict when forming the words. “If anything happens to you--” 

He looks like he’s said something he shouldn’t - that the contorted expression of _genuine_ concern was a mistake and he might die from it. 

They never suspected Shockwave was so afraid of Megatron.

[Not his.] They sign, leaving hands to rest at the curve of their swollen body. Watching Shockwave’s expressions travel from alert, to relief, to even embarrassment before retreating back to neutral and disinterested as ever. [Happy?]

“I do not understand why you have to be so difficult.” He sneers and seems caught off guard by Soundwave’s smile. “What?” 

[You were worried about me.]

“ _And?”_

[Didn’t know you could feel emotions for other people.]

“Do not get it confused,” Shockwave turns his head as the press conference is beginning to wrap up - making a motion towards Soundwave so they too were aware of the noise of applause as Megatron stepped into the crowd to begin the greatest part of his act to the masses. 

Soundwave is focused on collecting themself, making sure in the minutes wasted on Shockwave’s paranoia nothing important had occurred. They swear they must have heard Shockwave wrong as he moves to help them stand, calling for a security guard to escort them through the crowd and towards their next station. 

_“You are not other people,”_

* * *

**SIX**

There is pain.

Agonizing, fervent pain.

Every nerve screams as terror sets in, the haze of sirens blaring in their skull. 

They can’t hear anything past that damn sound, they can’t hear _anything_.

The world is a violent ocean, drowning in sensation and cries of pain. They are sinking further into smeared lights across their vision, distorted and dizzying to look upon. There is heat and copper in their mouth, their body bitten by some unseen beast. Teeth sink deep into flesh and render body from bone leaving Soundwave stripped of all protection. 

There is just pain.

And tears they have not cried in many, many years. Tacky and poisonous down their face as they recall why they need to move their arms to protect themself from this pain.

They have children.

They have to protect them.

_“!!!”_

A mechanical voice, they can’t understand the words but it’s so familiar. Underwater, nothing is right, but they know that voice.

Hands are touching them, their body is moved and it _hurts, it hurts so much_.

_“!!!”_ More. _“!!!!????!!!”_

They try to cry out but it’s like when they were a child, beaten and about to die before Megatron saved them.

Where is Megatron?

What happened?

They were on their way back from Iacon, exhausted and Megatron furious as the Senate was beginning to stick their games into his business. 

It was dark, Soundwave was so tired and heavy and their body was not happy about the two extra passengers. 

Megatron had been cursing, making sure Soundwave drank water and threatening someone on the phone.

He was likely going to kill someone soon - or maybe jump into the ring to wear himself out. 

Soundwave had the idle thought that they should make sure Damus’ new bones were fully functional - he wanted to learn to fight afterall. Maybe Megatron could train him, he always liked to train others, it made him feel superior. Strong. Damus would like that, Soundwave thought with amusement. How long had Damus been following Megatron around Kaon? Probably years, even before he was mutilated during the protests and sent to Shockwave for “healing”. 

Soundwave felt one of the twins kick and reminded themself to sleep on a heating pad tonight, they had a feeling time was almost up. 

_"!!??? &^!!?<<<??>>!!” _Sounds they couldn’t pinpoint, there’s flashes of light now white instead of red and orange. 

Fire. 

There had been fire.

Oh.

Of course.

Because someone tried to blow them up.

The sirens wont stop and Soundwave cries again.

There’s a hand on their face, hands on their body. Something is happening but they can’t see it. Can’t comprehend - can’t hear anything but painpainpainpainapinapaisnsaoinfjvsjidnfmvr msendkxfc,..zQwasdxmc sdlzcmvgjbvm …………………………………... …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

………………..

………..

……

…

..

.

There’s a bee sting and Soundwave is choking on air that tastes like chemicals.

Because it is.

People are blurry shapes and monitors look like wicked monsters with glowing green eyes hovering around the rushing forms.

They all wear white or pale purple scrubs.

The ones Shockwave makes his lab technicians wear.

Shockwave.

Shockwave.

Shockwave is here, Shockwave is holding a monitor, pulling it to hover above Soundwave’s vision. Wiping something from Soundwave’s face before text appears across the screen.

**YOU ARE OK**

It reads, even though Soundwave feels like they’re being ripped apart.

They try to _scream_ they don’t care if they’re ok - are their children ok?! Are Rumble and Frenzy ok!?

They’ve not said those names yet - keeping it a secret. They wanted their children’s names to belong just to them for a while.

Shockwave moves to type one handed on the computer, there’s blood splashed across his nice suit and white coat. There’s blood across his face - he wasn’t in the vehicle that was blown up. Was he ok?

**I WON’T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO ANY OF YOU**

The screen reads and Soundwave laughs because it hurts and because it’s so funny.

There’s a shape of red and gray further down the room - he’s getting in the way of nurses and screaming but it’s nothing more than whale sounds and sirens.

Soundwave’s head hurts and they wave at Megatron, because they know it’s Megatron. Thank Primus Megatron is alright.

Their hand is caught, lifted by Shockwave who holds it for a moment before settling it back down to the bed with a push. A silent command for them not to do that again.

**TRUST ME**

The screen reads and Soundwave breaks the order just given to reach up. Fingers weak and soaked red as they try to fix Shockwave’s tie.

It’s disorderly.

Shockwave hates disorderly.

Is Megatron’s tie crooked? They don’t know.

Why is Soundwave surrounded by men who can’t fix their own ties? Ha.

Shockwave takes their wrist, easing the arm back down and doesn’t seem to mind the blood. 

[Relax] He signs and Soundwave nods, letting another syringe sting them and the world begins to swirl in color.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some domesticity before hell follows.

**SEVEN**

Frenzy cries until handed to Shockwave. The infant slapping his face into the man’s chest and muffling noises against the blazer lapel while the scientist pays it no mind. Adjusting to hold the babe with one arm and only making Soundwave frown a little at his reckless action. In truth Shockwave was quite careful with the twins - even if he tried to argue with two month olds - but every once in a while Soundwave wished the man would have just a little more care.

Megatron had more experience in the matter of infants and was cradling Rumble while they argued. Deep voice a lullaby for the small shape.

“It is unnecessary.” Soundwave adjusted the sensitivity and volume of their new hearing aids, only a little insulted that Shockwave had made them _purple_ instead of their preferred blue. He swore he’d fix them but for now Soundwave didn’t have much of a choice.

“You’re staying with me and that’s final.” Megatron repeats himself, having said that exact sentence seven times over the course of the last three days. Each time Soundwave disagreed and they were back to square one.

“It was never my intention to be dependent on anyone when I chose to have children.” Because it was a choice, more so than either of these men will understand. “I appreciate your concern.”

“Soundwave.” 

“Keep your voice down sir, you’ll wake him.” Shockwave doesn’t look up when he corrects Megatron - who immediately stares in the man’s direction at the audacity.

Personally Soundwave appreciates that Shockwave hasn’t been as pushy. The scientist just seemed satisfied when Soundwave obeyed the doctors and his own suggestions for a more efficient recovery. 

Megatron was already mostly healed from the car bomb, but faster healing was to be expected. 

“Besides, the idea that Soundwave and the boys live with you is completely illogical.” Shockwave pulls his tie from Frenzy’s mouth and doesn’t flinch when the babe’s hiccups and drools down his collar. “Your home is a literal death trap and not safe for children.” 

Megatron doesn’t look happy with the man’s casual statements and Soundwave has to tug on Shockwave’s sleeve when he passes to remind him to keep his tongue.

“And where do you suggest Soundwave goes?”

“Home.” Soundwave interjects but Shockwave doesn’t seem to notice.

“Sir, with all respect for your intention, we are relocating in less than a year to Iacon, are we not?” 

The Decepticon Tower will be finished by then. Violet tinted windows and 79 floors each designed by Soundwave and Scrapper personally - not counting the nineteen floors below which would be Shockwave’s domain. Such interesting things are found beneath Iacon, things that those in power tried to hide from history - and those like Shockwave who were cast out felt could be put to good use.

“Your point?” Megatron is quite an intimidating figure, even when scrambling to pull a tie pin from a two month old’s aimless grasp. 

“My point is, sir, why bother? It would be most efficient and logical to relocate Soundwave and the boys to Iacon now. Permitting Soundwave to work remotely from a secure location as was originally intended once they gave birth.” 

“I don’t have a home in Iacon yet.” 

“Neither do I.” Megatron adds alongside Soundwave, even though both know he would not. Ever.

He drunkenly vowed as much before. 

“I do.” Shockwave responds and doesn’t blink when Frenzy slaps him.

…

It’s a six story, four bedroom, five bathroom renovated brownstone just 1.3 miles from their new headquarters.

The interior is spotless, appearing like a display home with crystal finery, polished floorboards, classic design and a shine of opulence which simply did not suit Shockwave. 

Most notably, nothing was purple.

Or dead and pinned to walls as Soundwave assumed would be standard in the scientist’s home. 

The move happens in less than a month, all the while Megatron is moody. The clear sign of distress at not being the one to solve the problem showing loud across his tense posture. But they did only have 8 months before the grand opening of their new tower - and there was so much to do that Megatron was kept busy.

Shockwave allowed remodeling one of the bedrooms into an office space for Soundwave while also pulling his own security team to occupy certain points on the block. As it seemed, with the car bomb and everything, Megatron was finally powerful enough to warrant death. 

He grinned when such revelation was mentioned, looking so proud over the fact...while Soundwave couldn’t help but think of Orion Pax’s words.

 _“People like him only stop when they’re dead. And they usually die young.”_

This was how they were to grade their success? By contracts won and stocks skyrocketing? By the blood on their hands and the threat on their shoulders.

Megatron promised them great things.

They trusted him.

...

Living with Shockwave was...bizarre. Soundwave was raised with prostitutes and drug addicts when they were old enough to run away, and those individuals were less strange than Shockwave who either slept all day or didn’t sleep _for_ days. Oftentimes Soundwave would step from their temporary office to find the man laying on the floor with the twins - arguing over genetic mutations and taking their every noise as a contrary opinion.

Sometimes he caught Shockwave standing at the open fridge, staring with disgust at anything red - for no reason past he felt like red was a terrible color that day. They fought once over Shockwave’s desire to throw out an apple because the color made him angry and Soundwave shoved the fruit into his mouth and told him to shut up. That he was upsetting the twins with his insanity.

Which led to Shockwave, the man behind so many terrible things brewing beneath the secret floors of the Decepticon Tower, to lay on the kitchen floor and eat the apple like a petulant child. Acting as if Soundwave had cursed him into such a task and then fell asleep there for two hours.

 _“He is a little odd,”_ Megatron had agreed once. _“But he’s so very useful.”_

Odd meant you collected stamps or liked the smell of cardboard.

Odd was not supposed to mean walking around one’s home barefoot while rambling about formulas, genetic manipulation, and something about migrating worms for three hours before doing one hundred and eighty push ups in the hallway. Then running out the door because of some miraculous realization. 

Only to come running back in while Soundwave extended the man’s shoes and rolled his eyes as Shockwave looked horrified he didn’t remember them. 

How Shockwave has functioned this long without a caretaker? Soundwave has no idea.

But he was good with the twins.

He was terribly good with the twins that it was becoming a problem.

Namely, that one day Soundwave was growing too comfortable watching Shockwave enter a room and smiling at him. Handing over a twin or both and letting the madman command the attention of the boys. Hugging them close and telling them about his day, complaining about iditotic assistants and that Overlord was the worst patient to ever exist.

They had days where everything went well.

Where all their work was done efficiently and with blessid competence by their subordinates - able to stand tall and proud at the opening of Decepticon Tower. Watch Megatron take the main stage and the knowledge that _this was just the beginning_. Their hard work was going to pay off.

Days where they drove home together, and Soundwave forgot to think of it as a temporary thing. This weird man who got mad at colors or was often lost in thought that he spoke half his feelings aloud. Having to ask Soundwave at times _“what is the emotion called when..._ “ because he honestly forgot how he was supposed to feel. 

And against their will, Soundwave began to find it charming. 

As the twins grew Shockwave researched how best to do their hair, how to braid and what products would be best. He took the boys’ care very seriously and when angry Soundwave had to physically pull tools from his hands before some expensive equipment was torn down at the offices and rebuilt as a baby swing for Frenzy or mobile for Rumble. Proclaiming that _it_ was a good distraction from stupidity.

“What is?”

“Spoiling our sons.” 

Soundwave froze at the answer, letting go of Shockwave’s arm and the man gave no sign he’d heard his own words. Calmly returning to disassembling Scavenger’s latest experiment into a walking crib. So at peace with his claim that Soundwave doubted they even heard the madman correctly.

And fearing the spark of hope which embedded itself into their chest.

…

The boys were three when Soundwave announced their intention to move out.

Shockwave does not handle it well.

It’s a late evening after a stressful day. Shockwave is sitting on the brown leather couch with brass buttons. A wall of honey-wood panels behind him, framing sharp shoulders in geometric shapes. Three years living together and dressed down to his collar shirt and slacks is the most comfortable Soundwave has ever seen him. Never pajamas or more casual wear - they took the boys to the zoo and Shockwave wore a three piece suit and seemed not to care when Rumble dropped ice cream down the pant leg. 

Things were just things to Shockwave, luxury was merely a funny way of saying _quality,_ and sometimes Soundwave couldn’t decide if Shockwave were more or less human than the people they surround themselves in. Whether he was logical or illogical, or even if this set up was convenient or merely something that he accepted because it was just as weird as him.

“No.” He answers, doesn’t blink. His fake eye is out for the evening and Soundwave knows that means he’s got a headache - or did earlier. The left eyelid is closed, taped down with something the human vision cannot see, and he’s still handsome even with the bruised look when he has to remove the prosthetic.

The boys are in bed, tired from a day of chasing their new cat around. It was a stray that the boys cooed at from the windows, talking excitedly when the black feline got close to the house. Shockwave frowning and complaining about rabies and fleas when Soundwave let the boys throw tuna out from the back patio doors. 

Eventually the cat slunk it’s way day by day closer until Soundwave would go outside in the mornings before work - drink coffee with the ugly thing asleep in their lap while Shockwave got the boys ready for daycare. (Not that he was better at it, but finding Shockwave asleep for two days on the couch was not good parenting and Soundwave started training the man into a better daily schedule about a year ago.)

One day the cat disappeared, not coming to greet Soundwave with the boys for dinner. All three were sad until Shockwave returned home with a cat carrier and pissed-off stray who “Did not enjoy the vet or the bath.” 

And that’s how Ravage found her home. Named with a cheeky grin of the child - the black cat currently asleep on Shockwave’s ankle where the man was still after being informed of Soundwave’s intention

[You can’t say no]

[I just did.]

“Shockwave.”

“What?” 

They rub their eyes, not expecting this level of stubborness.

And it hurt. To convince themself this was the best option.

 _“Spoiling our sons”_ he’d said, Soundwave was sure of it. Surprised that such a thing hadn’t ignited a possessive flare in Soundwave. Didn’t make them think _no not our sons, MINE_. And that was the issue they needed to address.

They wanted Shockwave to think of Rumble and Frenzy as his sons, their sons. Their family. 

But how many years will it take for Soundwave to stop wanting things they can’t have? Proven time and time again not to allow outsiders into their desires.

“We’re moving once I find a place. I won’t stop you from seeing the boys - you are like” A father. “An uncle to them.”

“No.” He says again, gently waking Ravage from her slumber to rise. Moving across the living room to the main hall. Soundwave is exhausted thinking he’s leaving, but instead there’s the sound of keys and Shockwave returning. His house keys in hand - the front and back doors, the windows, the garage, the terrace and the storage basement. All there on a ring being offered down.

“What?” 

“I’ll move. You stay here.” 

“That’s illogical.” They use his word against him and Shockwave might have rolled his eyes, but with only one he looks a little silly. “I’m not taking your house from you.” 

“Why not, I bought it for you.” 

Soundwave’s head spins.

[What do you mean?]

Shockwave is still holding the keys out, standing tall - nearly to Megatorn’s height - his hair forever neat and his button down impervious to wrinkles until the twins get a hold of him. Most days Soundwave thinks he’s a robot, knows exactly how much of him is actually wire and prosthetics and terrible things he did to himself to be less human. He’s beautiful and above all emotion. Unmoved by mortal despair...or so he’s said countless times when Frenzy fake cries and Shockwave argues with a three year old.

“I purchased this home the day after the twins were born.” He answers, not moving an inch. “I knew it would be a more efficient location, better schools and the commute to work would be superior. You also like plants and the previous owners left their garden intact. You required enough room for a home office - my living here was only to make you less likely to turn down the offer. It was my mistake to have lingered so long in your home.” 

Soundwave just stares.

“I understand this all might seem bizarre but if you contact Deathsaurus you will see the home is in your name. Legally it is yours - why would I invite a parent and their children into a home with the expectation of them having to move? All the furniture is still from the display set up, I suppose I did find it funny you never asked to change it.” He huffs like something is funny. “Illogical.”

[Why?]

“Simple. I love you.” 

…

After Soundwave does not respond, Shockwave lays the keys on the quilt ottoman and bids them goodnight. Explaining that they will be moved out in two days if that is sufficient, before heading upwards to his room.

Soundwave remains in the living room unable to stop processing.

_Simple. I love you._

How is that simple?

Since when?

Soundwave prides themself on knowing what people want before they know it.

On seeing the smallest signs of give or anger in others expressions, navigating this world by instinct and emotion and all the complicated ways people think and desire. Using all they see, feel, and know to manipulate the playing field and ensure they and their brood come out on top. 

_Simple. I love you_.

That was not simple. 

Soundwave had never been in love.

Love was a maddening idea, assumed unreachable and impossible to understand. So. Soundwave refused. 

Love and being in love were different.

Soundwave loved Megatron, adored Megatron, and would die for Megatron.

Soundwave loved their children - of course. Soundwave would let Megatron die if it meant protecting their children.

Soundwave loved Blaster. Loved that Blaster was a good memory and a life lesson. That Blaster agreed to help Soundwave accomplish a dream and never asked for anything more. 

Soundwave would kill Blaster if Megatron ordered. 

Love was simple.

Being in love was complicated.

Shockwave said _Simple. I love you._

Oh.

…

Shockwave’s bedroom is on the fifth floor and far enough that Soundwave has to bring the baby monitor with them. Holding it in hand when Shockwave answers the door and looks not particularly surprised at their presence.

“I will move in one day if that’s easier.” He says but Soundwave hushes him, stepping in and putting the monitor on the dresser of black lacquer wood.

[Do you love me?] They sign,

“Yes,” Shockwave answers.

[How are you so confident?]

“I don’t waste my time running reports once facts are proven. And such is indeed a fact.”

[Since when?]

“Since you bitch slapped me and knocked out my eye.” He answers, a glimmer of amusement at the edge of his mouth. 

[That’s all it took?]

[No.] He signs when he speaks. “I fell in love then and the next years only provided the reasons why that was logical.” 

[Would you marry me?]

Surprise is a funny look on Shockwave, brow quirked and lips parting soft. 

“Yes.” He answers. 

[Do you want to fuck me?]

“That’s quite a personal question Soundwave.” 

Soundwave didn’t know he could blush, so many discoveries tonight.

[Answer.]

“I would find that agreeable.”

[Can my sons call you father?]

“Soundwave,” He steps into their space, bringing hands cautious to their shoulders and it’s so bizarre to think this is the most they've touched outside of a medical emergency. “Despite my best efforts, I can be hurt. So if you are joking please know I don’t understand most jokes.” 

Soundwave pulls him down by the collar, tired of his stupidity. 

It’s a long way, their heights so different that they know it probably hurts Shockwave’s neck to be pulled but they kiss it to make it better. Holding the man’s sharp cheek in the curve of their hand, pressing hard at the jaw with fingertips until the dry lips part and Soundwave can lick perfect teeth they know Shockwave designed himself. 

“Marry me tomorrow.” Soundwave knocks their brow into Shockwave’s and pushes fingers back to lace together through pale hair, holding the man curved like a bow so they can feel the way Shockwave’s breath changes. The interesting reaction as the ever-calculating and planning nerd moves to bring his own big hands to the fall of Soundwave’s hips. 

“The boys have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.” He says. “Would saturday be better?” 

…

Soundwave knows they are staring and they shouldn’t be 

Or maybe they should.

This was a very strange situation they found themself in - honeymoon night and everything. Perhaps they should have had sex earlier in the week rather than agree to be a bit more traditional and wait. Soundwave had suggested it, wanting to give Shockwave time but also...perhaps getting engaged and married four days later wasn’t the smartest action.

They could have avoided situations like this.

“What is it?” Shockwave asks, a hint of concern in his expression as he’s looking up from the bed covers, hair tousled and his shirt still held in Soundwave’s hands after they pulled it apart.

Shockwave had worn a tux to their courthouse wedding, it was rather cute, but they were never going to find all the buttons that just went flying off at Soundwave’s eager tug. 

“Soundwave?” 

Soundwave drops the fabric to answer clearly.

[Chest.] 

“What about it?”

Soundwave stares.

[Big.]

When Shockwave blushes it starts in his ears, seeping down his throat and his chest blossoms in the color making Soundwave’s dumbfounded staring all the more intense. 

It made sense.

Soundwave had never seen Shockwave shirtless, or without layers of a suit and mostly long coats even in summer. He covered himself almost obsessively and it was hard to tell what lay beneath - so this was a surprise. All those manic pushups and picking eating didn’t compute until now, Soundwave had expected Shockwave to be on the skinny side but this….was obscene!

“Should I get dressed?” He says, looking awkward and Soundwave feels a touch guilty, remembering that Shockwave is simple in his perceptions and so far their wedding night had been Soundwave pushing him to the bed and then staring at his chest.

They shake their head no and apologize with hands moving from Shockwave’s blushing throat. Slow stroke until reaching heavy pecs that feel soft and solid beneath their palms. Watching as Shockwave’s pale lashes flinch at the first touch, their shiny new husband’s expression is absolutely wonderful.

Husband.

Husband.

“Say you love me.” 

“I love you.” 

Soundwave believes him.

* * *

**EIGHT**

It was always going to come to this.

An unfortunate side effect of their profession, the inevitable of letting a monster into the gate. Loosely chained with a false illusion of control. 

Soundwave was prepared for this for many years, their secrets plenty, their contingencies even more.

When the phone rings, Ravage the Second is sleeping across Shockwave’s head, a low warning growl as he stirs. Trying to free himself from the feline’s grasp while Soundwave feels for the vibrations. Tracing the wired pulse from their side of the bed to the charging station. Plucking the device up and while they cannot hear Shockwave’s voice as more than a single violin playing through a storm, they know he’s asking if everything is alright.

One glance at the screen tells them, no. It’s not alright.

“I’ll drive you.” He says, mouth pressed against Soundwave’s bare shoulder. One hand sweeping back the dark hair and rubbing precise circles against muscles framing their spine. Soothing aches which have grown like blades over the years. 

“Negative.” They’re up, hands diving into their hair. Braiding swift and efficient - finding clothes neatly arranged on the waiting wardrobe of brass hooks and lacquer wood. Dressing while Shockwave moves with silent steps, collecting a few things and once more standing behind them. Placing a device into their ear - one after another - as delicate as transplanting butterfly wings. 

There is clarity in the sound surrounding them - now able to hear the cat meowing needy at the door like a tambourine obsessive at the edges of their proximity. Can hear Shockwave’s voice better to know he’s speaking - able to look at him and get the full picture.

“I’ll make myself available.” Is all he needs to say, bowing to receive a patient kiss while his ever-chilly fingertips trace Soundwave’s cheek.

[Be careful with breakfast. Frenzy is hiding his medicine.] They warn and Shockwave frowns.

“Not from me.” Their husband assures and Soundwave kisses him once more, not for luck or reward. But for the moment they lean closer and Shockwave is already quickly bowing to reach them. To always be there.

The twins are old enough for their own rooms now, and Primus knows the house has plenty of space, but still they want to share. Afraid of being separated - still afraid of the dark. Soundwave checks on them before leaving, kissing their brows and passes Shockwave in the kitchen, robe slipping off a great pale body and arguing with the new coffee maker they purchased. The simple illusion of domesticity soothing the building static in Soundwave’s mind - not exactly sure what they’re about to walk into.

“I love you.” 

“And I you.” 

.

There’s blood everywhere.

A furious painting of red dripping from the walls in macabre design. The stench of copper and fury pulling at Soundwave’s gut as even they must order their body to obey. Refuse the small desire to raise a hand and cover their mouth from the horrific scene. 

They’ve seen worse of course. Plenty of gang wars and murder attempts. Walking in on rival groups slaughtering their men - or being the beasts slaughtering those who sought their destruction. Violence and death no longer unnerves Soundwave if it ever did. Raised in hell, one gets used to suffering.

But this.

This was not simply brutality.

This was _sickness._

It takes five men to hold Overlord down, aided by the many syringes of pale liquid scattered across his body. The parts of him that are not soaked red with gore are torn and beaten. His boots slip on the soaked floors as he still tries to fight back. Teeth bared, a rabid dog biting and threatening as his arm pulls loose and sinks into the belly of a soldier. The sharp crack of tactical armor shattering beneath Overlord’s unnatural strength and the body is sent flying back. Choking on their own blood and agony. Scrambling on their backs like a roach knocked sideways.

The many unmarked soldiers pause in fear, the crew sent to clean up this mess watch with terror behind their safety visors. Soundwave’s team all looked to them with expectation, a quiet plea to take control of this nightmare.

Overlord is cursing, screaming, laughing. Cackling his threats and spitting promises of death while another syringe gun is pressed to his throat, the veins bulging with strain. His blue eyes no longer clear as the little boy who would sit at Soundwave’s side while they watched Megatron spar. A joyful creature who cheered and clapped hands, vibrating genuine adoration and thrill for the gladiator beneath the city. 

Their savior. 

“Soundwave!” Overlord’s voice has deepened with age, and while he no longer looks the part of a cherub, Soundwave’s chest aches with the spill of golden curls down a blood streaked face. Bruised and feral - watching with pin prick eyes through a wild haze. “Soundwave, get them off me!” 

_“I don’t like it.”_ The memory of a child whining as he received injections of dark color. _“I don’t feel good, Soundwave.”_

It was necessary, they told him and held his hand. It was for him to grow strong - to survive. 

“Calm.” They order, approaching while the remaining four are startled at how quickly the great body goes still. A lumbering giant - still a teenager though. Still edging on adulthood yet Soundwave has to reach up to hold his face. Brush blood and sweat from beneath his eyes and feel the madness brewing with their own palm. 

_What have you done?_

“I did as he ordered.” Overlord pants, eyes darting from side to side with paranoia. Like he’s chasing demons others can’t see. “Dad told me to - so I did! I did what he said! Why am I in trouble!?” 

“Shh,” They cradle Overlord's face between their hands, allowing the weight of this teenager to sink against their touch. He’s both feverish and cold - shaking and all too still. The veins of his eyes look black and Soundwave swallows their heartbreak as they stroke through blond curls dyed red with the slaughter. “Please go with them for now. I will see you at the labs.” 

“Soundwave,” The boy’s voice cracks, sounding like he should. Like a child scared. “Dad told me to - where is he - he told me to-“ 

“I know.” They nod, giving a comforting squeeze to tense shoulders quaking like mountains above a shivering faultline. “I will get your father, we will be there soon. Trust me.” 

“I don’t feel good,” Overlord sinks, a gag in his throat and dark colored blood leaks from his nose. The paralytic agents starting to take hold, this large body wavering on drugged legs and Soundwave allows the soldiers to catch his fall.

It’s been many years since Soundwave could hold Overlord - grown too fast too quickly at their hands.

“Contact the medical team, have Shockwave summoned to the tower.” Soundwave orders, trying not to look at the boy now being hoisted like a corpse onto a metal stretcher. “Where is Megatron?” 

.

There are five bodies in total but the clean up team is still trying to find all the pieces. They can’t make it look like an accident if a finger is missing - and Soundwave above all things pays attention to the smallest details. It’s how they’ve managed to protect this empire for so long, not permitting a single mistake. Nothing too small to be overlooked. 

They find Megatron on the other side of the house, lingering on a patio which was free of the slaughter. His shoes left red prints when he walked through the living room’s mess. Dried by now so the polished leather shoes only look oddly dusty in the moonlight above.

There’s a stream of smoke from the cigarette hanging from his busted lip. Dark hair now peppered through with deep gray - soon to be silver - looking tangled. Like angry hands were run through it and then tried to smooth down the mess. A large bruise stretched across his cheekbone and there was evidence of bloodied handprints - grappling his torn collar. His sleeve ripped, his shirt askew, and a loaded silver gun resting on the patio table between them. 

“He called me.” Megatron’s voice is hollow against the night, leaving Soundwave searching their impeccable memory for any moment prior that this tone was used.

They can’t think of one.

“He called me sobbing - then cursed me. I think he was sitting in this for days.” Teeth clench and the cigarette bends under the attack. 

“What were his orders?” 

“To collect payment.” Megatron still won’t face them, still won’t greet Soundwave’s eyes and a haunted look creeps across those noble features. “He was growing antsy, bored. You know how he gets. So I sent him on an errand, nothing more. I didn’t even think it strange when he didn’t come home.” 

_I did as he ordered!_

“Who were they?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

It does, but Soundwave doesn’t push. They will know eventually, they learn everything eventually. There are no secrets between them and Megatron has never denied them information for long. 

“Overlord-“ 

“He’s losing it.” 

Megatron turns and Soundwave’s mouth parts in surprise at the sight of bruises the shape of hands wrapping his throat. The evidence of a great skirmish - something which should have left one of them dead. 

“He attacked you?” Soundwave can’t believe it, like a string breaking mid song - a concert coming to a horrific stop at the gnarled cry of a broken cello disrupting the world. “He wouldn’t.” 

“We need to look at options.” 

“Sir.” 

“Control yourself.” Shame floods Soundwave’s body and they bite down their complaint. Nodding silent and still while avoiding the sight of those bruises, the glaring proof of Overlord’s madness. 

“Does anyone know he fought you?” Soundwave questions, trying to replace horror with analytics and failing to balance their logic and humanity. They want Shockwave there - need to soak in the coldness of his eyes. The way their husband can turn off emotion and care and see only the facts and figures of the world before him. It was a comfort when Soundwave was unable to stop _feeling_ , and they felt far too much. 

“Your team will need to be interviewed. The responding units who took him away as well. Deal with them as you see fit.” 

“Those most loyal to you,” Soundwave hesitates to say. “Will try to kill him if they know.” 

If this were anyone else, they would already be dead. Soundwave would have put a bullet between their eyes themself. 

“No one touches him.” Megatron’s order breaks the haunting tone of his voice, suddenly more like himself. Angry, commanding. The authority of an emperor putting forth his decree and leaving no room for question. “If they do, they’ll answer to me.” 

“Yessir.” 

“I promised his mother.” He says, almost like a slip. Inhaling deep on the cigarette and chewing the filter until the whole thing fell apart on his lip. Stained with blood and spat away in a huff of smoke and anger. 

“We will begin looking into alternative methods of keeping him.” Safe? Contained? Controlled? How does one control a rabid dog…

In a mere few hours the world has changed and Soundwave will need to reorganize their thoughts for it. Reestablish the order of things and try to swallow down the sharp knot in their chest. The one filled with a cherub boy running at their side, bratty and yet sweet beneath the halo of hair. Whining when their father was not around to see them, devouring all information as the Empire was built before their very eyes and how many of them saw Overlord as their heir.

How many accepted him as Megatron’s son?

Their earpiece chirps in a tone which means their network was alerted to a priority. Millions of subjects, names, and codes constantly cycled through to be marked and sent to Soundwave’s attention should anything change. The flash of code and uploaded details across their phone as Megatron stood silent. Hardly seeing Soundwave as they checked their device with a numb mind and stiffness in their usual deft hands.

“What is it?” Megatron questions, his body slumping against the patio railing - unable to take any further bad news that night but always prepared. 

“Sir.” Soundwave hesitates.

“Us or them?” 

“Outer circle.” They explain, not wanting to leave Megatron in suspense as the new information falls flat on an already troubled night. “It seems the Seeker Matriarch has been found dead in her home.” 

Soundwave isn’t expecting the laugh that falls from Megatron’s bruised mouth. It’s both weary in disbelief, like he’s responding to a joke he didn’t find funny. 

“I always liked her, even though she threw a drink in my face once. Said I _looked too much like my scum father to deserve to live._ ” He chuckles at the memory. “We didn’t have anything to do with her death, did we?” 

“No sir.” Soundwave scans through the information. “Suicide.” 

“Was it really?” 

“Doubtful.” 

Megatron pauses, looking up to the sky, eyes clearly shifting through memories and information. The records of his lifetime are something Soundwave could not even begin to imagine - and sometimes wishes they could download to a harddrive and keep safe for all time. 

“I met her son once.” He says, quiet and mostly to himself, but Soundwave listens nonetheless. “It was a spring equinox party a few years back, he was a scrawny thing. Bruised to hell, arm in a sling.”

Soundwave agreed, knowing the reports of the Seeker’s only legitimate child being involved in a car wreck winters back. 

“He was drunk, standing on a second story ledge of their home in Vos - talking nonsense. Even asked me if I thought he could fly.” Megatron actually chuckles at this, seeming charmed by the memory. “Said he was going to jump.” 

“What happened?” Soundwave sends a message to their team to look into the Seeker death, check on this son. Send flowers to the estate and begin researching if there’s anything of worth in the crumbling empire of their family. 

“What happened?” Megatron echoes, lighting another cigarette and brushing dried blood from his sleeve. “The brat jumped.” 

* * *

**NINE**

Soundwave can’t even say that they hate Starscream, because that would imply they have any feelings _towards_ the brat further than contempt.

Starscream hasn’t earned their hate, only annoyance and disinterest. A constant gnat flying in Soundwave’s way, a buzzing sound they wish they could crush beneath their palm and be done with.

The boy is brilliant, which is unfortunate. His results are - impressive. His work is incomparable to all previous engineers hired. Given a problem which stumped even the most senior of his colleagues and solved it with a brutal grace and a haughty smile in presentation. Sneering little voice saying _“It was too simple”_ before demanding more than his work was worth. 

He was attractive which was also unfortunate. 

Pretty thing roaming the halls of the sub level laboratories. Striking up lovely smiles to confuse his coworkers and get them in trouble when his desires took control. Stealing information, production, materials meant for other projects. Causing absolute havoc on a good day and being escorted out of the building on the bad. 

Shockwave came home once, looking tired and asking Soundwave if Megatron would care much if he strangled the Seeker heir tomorrow? Their poor husband, the little brat’s direct supervisor, and the one who was in charge of keeping that ambitious rat contained most days.

It was like setting loose a fire in a room of chemicals, bad endings expected. 

To make matters worse Starscream fancied himself a man of politics as well. Sneaking into the upper level of Decepticon tower. Inserting himself into meetings he has no place being, giving input and orders of which he lacked the authority to command. Soundwave even put a sign in each meeting room with his face **DO NOT ALLOW ENTRY** in bold beneath the Seeker’s image…

It didn’t work. The photos were swapped with images of various employees and lawyers and when Megatron walked into a meeting and saw his face in the frame - well - Soundwave was at the end of their rope.

And then...there was Megatron who allowed this terror into their fold against the suggestions of his peers. The board lost that vote - and every other following meeting called to request his firing. Megatron entered these meetings in the minority and somehow convinced his oldest supporters to keep the brat on. Even Shockwave was convinced to vote in favor of keeping the monster, looking dizzy and confused afterwards. Not sure how his mind was changed beyond the power of Megatron’s charisma.

If Starscream was just some fuck toy for Megatron, some pretty secretary ruining the schedule, THAT Soundwave could accept. 

But no.

Megatron was too classy for that.

Megatron hadn’t taken a lover in many years, nor did he entertain himself with flirtation or pleasure. He was focused solely on his work, his kingdom. No distractions had ever made it to his office or heart…

Until Starscream.

The only one allowed to _scream_ publicly at Megatron and not be thrown out a fiftieth story window as punishment. 

Others noticed and were just as confused. 

You couldn’t deny Starscream was useful. You couldn’t refuse his findings or his offerings to their company, his brilliant mind and clever tongue somehow stealing them contracts thought impossible before. Their clients and supporters grew with each level he climbed in the tower. Slithering his wicked self higher and higher on the food chain until one day Soundwave realized Starscream had an office only one floor away from Megatron’s!

That seemed….wrong.

Considering the day before the brat actually _stood on a meeting room table_ and called Megatron a foul list of names which left those attending shaking in their chairs. Waiting for the bloodshed of Megatron’s fury to follow. 

It never did.

Yes, Megatron did scruff the brat and drag him to his office. Their voice loud and carrying through the halls against all of Soundwave attempts to soundproof the room. They could fight for hours and emerge, heavy breathing and furious. The Seeker’s “brothers” waiting like giggling or anxious vultures for their leader. Crowding him with concern or mockery when he finally returned to them, collar askew like Megatron had considered strangling him…

But the next day they still worked together. Perfectly.

Megatron gave orders, Starscream gave impressive results and whatever Starscream went after - he got.

Soundwave hated that most of all, that Starscream was actually good at his job. Little excuse to get rid of him, attitude aside. 

Hated that Megatron reviewed the reports the Seeker brat tossed at him like meat to a dog - leaving without so much as a respectful word. Megatron eyes glowing with amusement while the rest of him was neutral, so clearly impressed. Soundwave was beginning to fear that Megatron was seeking out the boy for arguments. For the thrill of fights and chaos Megatron had lost in his new role at the top of the tower, top of the world. No longer able to get hands dirty with either business scraps or physical altercations. Now having an army to do the dirty work for him.

Soundwave hated that Megatron seemed happier with Starscream around. 

And then it snows unexpectedly.

And Soundwave watches from the security cameras as Starscream stands like a prey animal at the edge of shadow, watching the world beyond the lobby. His eyes afraid and hands frozen at his sides until Megatron appears like a spectre at his side. A brief conversation, Soundwave unable to look away...and they leave together.

…

[Your vehicle was there all night.]

“This does not concern you.” 

[He could ruin everything.]

“You think Starscream has that much power over me?” A scoff, dismissive and foolish.

[Why him?]

Megatron goes blank, head turned towards the world outside of his high rise officesuite. Snowy Iacon city beyond, slowly conquered piece by piece. So much more to do, they weren’t even close, not yet. But if they wanted to succeed they needed to be careful.

“Am I being judged by the one who slept with an employee first?” 

They have never fought before.

Soundwave pushes and Megatron grows angry. They fight, voice raised, hands moving, something new for them, this anger.

It doesn’t last long. They almost feel sick by the end of it, apologizing in quiet gestures. Never needing to say the words out loud. They know each other far too well for that...and yet there is a sour taste blossoming in their chest. Something shaped like a sharp smile and a brat’s disposition. Something has changed between them they can tell.

[Be careful.]

“Aren’t I always?” 

It’s Soundwave’s low chuckle that breaks the tension, their eyes rolling at the claim. Desperate to undo the last few minutes of screaming and anger.

[Never.]

[That’s why I have you.]

Megatron held the twins' hands when Shockwave and Soundwave were married. The only three in attendance at the ceremony.

Megatron was there when Soundwave discovered they were pregnant, and told them to put his name down as the father if they needed one. Promised to always protect them.

Megatron gave Soundwave a new life. Gave them a purpose and home. Gave them a reason to live beyond the guttural hell they’d known before. 

Megatron was the one constant in their life, the one Soundwave knew would never falter - because Soundwave would never allow it. 

[You have me.] Soundwave agrees, remembering promises between them over how many years together? How many more until they could say they’ve accomplished that cruel dream birthed in Kaon - how much more would Soundwave give this man?

As much as he asked.

“Don’t worry.” Megatron stands at Soundwave’s side, watching the world outside. That which they will conquer and reform in his image. A better life for all those who know suffering at the hands of few, who wear crowns and call themselves servants. “Starscream is currently useful, but overall meaningless. I’ll take from him what I desire and he’ll be forgotten once he has no more to give.” 

“Yessir.” 

It’s at least a small comfort to know that Starscream was just a pawn after all.

* * *

**TEN: Present Day**

There’s gunfire and screams above, bodies falling below.

Death is everywhere, the storming of soldiers and car tires screeching as bullets riddle their bodies. Cries of pain and horror, names called, orders given, the enemy surrounded. 

Soundwave looks up to see Tarn, masked face cast orange in the haze of gunfire as they reach down. Lift Soundwave up with a single arm and carry them to safety. His broad coat hides many things and when his gun empties, a new clip is easily produced.

“Megatron!” Soundwave yells over the cacophony of slaughter and war, their earpiece screaming at the bursting sounds of automatic weapons and chaos.

“Overlord-“ Tarn says and ducks as the enemy’s caravan pulls back, pouring bullets around their hiding spot. Tarn forces Soundwave beneath him to push closer to the old equipment found in the warehouse. “Stay here!” 

Megatron.

Where is Megatron!?

Soundwave crouches low, takes a gun from Tarn, and watches the man dash off - a sound of a small explosion following and pieces of something (someone) fill the air. 

They try to think back. To remember what happened before hell broke loose. Further than the concussion they know they have as blood leaks down their face. Throbbing where debris from the initial explosion left them flung back and seeing only white. 

Where is Megatron?

They remember waiting for their “associates” to arrive. Remember calling Megatron in, remember Starscream’s pouting face as he threw a tantrum “ _You’re making me go to this event alone?”_ As he stood in his home and Megatron kissed him goodbye. 

Where was Megatron?

They remember the cold night, the shuffling of Megatron thick wool coat. His fine clothes for the gala planned that evening, of which they would be late to attend, looking out of place in these ruins of Tarn City. They remember watching Tarn and Overlord bicker in shadow nearby, remember noticing Overlord’s grin towering over the masked assassin and thinking that was strange.

They remember Megatron saying something about snow. _“He’ll be unhappy if I’m not there,”_ or something close to it but Soundwave was busy tracking movement on the east side heading in their direction.

They remember seeing headlights coming from a different street than they expected and feeling something cold drop into their belly.

 _“Sir,”_ They had said and Megatron looked almost fond when snow began to fall between them.

_“GET DOWN!”_

They remember the guns opening fire from the building across from them. Remember Megatron’s teeth bared and blood spraying from his chest as something clinked to the ground nearby and exploded. 

Where was Megatron? Where was Megatron? Where was Megatron?!

Soundwave managed to keep hold of their phone, second nature. Already dialing in for reinforcements. Summoning those just waiting on the hill if they weren’t already on their way at the sound of war. Contacting all emergency channels and the many contingencies they put into place. They do this without looking, without thinking. These things burned into their mind like breathing - their purpose was to protect Megatron’s dream and that’s what they would do.

Then they call Shockwave. 

“Are you heading back?” Soundwave can’t hear him, but his phone translates the voice into text - the burst earpieces are useless as the world screams in broken static. “Soundwave what's happening?” 

They have to text to respond, their trained remnant of a voice no longer working in adrenaline.

[ **CODE: PRODITO. ACTIVE SITUATION. MAINTAIN FACE. SEND STARSCREAM]**

They pause, reading Shockwaves confirming texts as a body hits the warehouse floor nearby. The rumble of larger vehicles coming from the west - more static.

“Soundwave?”

**[TELL THE BOYS I LOVE THEM]**

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This cliffhanger will pick up with the next two installments of Bad Business. 
> 
> Overlord/Tarn is up next, but if that is not your jam you can skip it for the Megatron/Starscream which will be titled "Ascension". 
> 
> you will not miss much by skipping the overtarn fic beyond some background information.


End file.
